Dwight Hobbes

Biography

About me

Dwight Hobbes has written for ESSENCE, Reader's Digest, the Washington Post, the Minneapolis Star Tribune, the St. Paul Pioneer Press, City Pages, Mpls/St. Paul, MN Law & Politics, Pulse of the Twin Cities, the Minneapolis Observer, the Twin Cities Daily Planet, Saint Paul Almanac 2009, Women & Word, the San Diego Union-Tribune, The Circle and Insight News—where he wrote the opinion column "Something I Said" and was lead arts critic. At the Minnesota Spokesman-Recorder he contributes the commentary column "Hobbes in the House" and the column "Arts, No Chaser." He’s spoken his mind over National Public Radio, Minnesota Public Radio, and Minneapolis-St. Paul’s KMOJ and KFAI. He was a frequent commentator on NewsNight Minnesota (KTCA-Minneapolis/St. Paul). His plays are Shelter (produced at Mixed Blood Theatre by Pangea World Theater), Dues (produced by Mixed Blood Theatre in Point of Revue, selected for Bedlam Theatre's 10-Minute Play Festival and published by Playscripts, Inc.), You Can't Always Sometimes Never Tell (produced by Theater Center Philadelphia, Long Island University, read at the Kennedy Center, and published in the anthology Center Stage), and In the Midst (produced by Long Island University, starring Samuel E. Wright). Hobbes spoke on the "Farewell To August Wilson" panel at the Guthrie Theater, broadcast over Conversations With Al McFarlane (KFAI, KMOJ). He's been interviewed on WCCO's Steele Talkin' by Jearlyn Steele and Unobstructed (BlogTalkRadio) by Alaina R. Alexander. As a singer-songwriter Dwight Hobbes recorded the single "Atlanta Children" (BeatBad Records) and gigged for ten years in the Long Island/NYC area, including at The Other End, Kenny's Castaways, and My Father's Place. He briefly fronted the Boston blues-rock band Midlight. In Minneapolis, he’s opened for David Daniels (at the 7th Street Entry) and James Curry (at Terminal Bar) and sat in with Yohannes Tona, Alicia Wiley (at Sol Testimony's Soul Jam), The New Congress (at Babalú), Willie Murphy (at the Viking Bar) and Wain McFarlane & Jahz (at Lucille's Kitchen). Dwight Hobbes still drops in at open mics around town. Right now he’s at Winterland Studios recording Angels Don’t Really Fly, an EP by Dwight Hobbes & The All-Stars featuring Alicia Wiley.

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Minnesota Hott Radio's program Smooth & Jazzy returns, after a few weeks' hiatus, bringing back with it, the mellifluous magic of sax ace Walter Chancellor, Jr. Between the Internet station's regular rotation and listeners requesting his tracks at the show's chat room, he is a presence of consequence.

Elizabeth Dorsey Hatle’s introduction to The Ku Klux Klan in Minnesota (History Press, $19.99) begins, “The overt whiteness of Minnesota in the 1920s makes the Ku Klux Klan finding a home in the state incomprehensible to residents today” — whatever that means. It is clear, however, that while the covert racism that yet prevails in this state might not do the Klan proud, it resolutely upholds its supremacist creed.

I'm proud of having shared a couple stages with James Curry (Brian Tischleder - vocals, guitar and Casey Fearing on-lead guitar, vocals). They made truly for real music, resurrecting with amazing authenticity, the old Dust Bowl school. It was raw, acoustic fare with Tischleder's searing, soulful voice sustaining the legacy of seminal legends like Woodie Guthrie and Ramblin' Jack Elliot. Their albums Brand New Suit and 13 were splendid recordings.

Every once in a while, you come across an interesting irony, when an artist's material is actually stronger than the artist. Think back, for instance, to Leonard Cohen, who couldn't carry a tune in a handbag. Kris Kristofferson, neither. They came up with catalogs of marvelous songs that everyone who covered them sang better.

Encouraging and empowering urban youth to entrepreneurship: That’s what Michael Chaney does, and he’s been pretty good at it over the past several years with a refreshing approach to helping youngsters help themselves to productive options for their futures and that of the community.

The power of caring commitment is amazing. For instance it saw, in 2012 alone, 500,000 sandwiches donated to the hungry homeless principally through the tireless energies of Allan “The Sandwich Man” Law, who has bent his back to this labor since 1967.

August was a pretty good month for black entertainment in downtown Minneapolis—and not even February. You had hot national acts Mary Mary, Diana Ross, and Eddie Griffin, all of it hosted by Hennepin Theatre Trust.

There are a few reasons why The Imaginary Invalid at Theatre in the Round doesn't work. The primary reason for its failure is that by the time brilliant satirist Molière wrote it he had run out of gas and came up with what basically is an vague rehashing of his uncanny triumph The Misanthrope: an objectionable fellow and his impact on those around him. The meandering script, in which very little happens, is meant to be a farcical statement on the medical profession but talks and talks itself into tedium, winding up not much of worthwhile comment on anything at all. Talented director Rick Shiomi goes with highly questionable choices, one being the use of colorblind casting. On the bright side, a couple of the actors do some fine work.

One of the more fascinating alt rock singer-songwriters on the Twin Cities scene is enigmatic siren Shannon Johnson. She established a distinct presence in 2005, fronting Kymara (Liquor Hot, Live at the Fine Line) to an immediately warm reception. To be honest, that puts it mildly. The audience for the live album was so wildly enthusiastic—clapping, yelling, and screaming—you'd've thought someone let an insane asylum loose. She soon found herself in fast company, gigging and hanging with heavyweights like Alicia Wiley, Desdamona, and the New Congress's Steph Devine. Hardly by happenstance: Johnson is a strong vocalist, strong songwriter, interesting guitar player, and one hell of a compelling stage presence.

The first time fortune set me on the same stage as Willie Murphy was a long time ago. We're talking when the Viking Bar was still open. David Daniels dragged me down for a round of reasonably priced drinks, on him, to sit around and shoot the shit. The band had finished warming up and Dave introduced me to this cat, John Beach, who'd been up there playing piano. Guy was reed thin, with a friendly visage. Skeptic, though. Beach sidled up to the bar. Asked a challenge: "So, what can you do?"